There are parts of yourself that
you hold back. You have to keep that part inviolate, hidden. It doesn't matter how much you're "in love"
or how much you "trust" your therapist. That part remains. It's your soul, your true name, your inner
child, and you keep it to yourself. There's one way to touch it. Torture. We know this from the time we can
walk. We know that enough pain strips your conscious defenses away. It's why children are so evil. It's why we
hurt the ones we love. We KNOW they're holding something back from us but we don't understand why. Even the best
of us are passive aggressive. I found a bitch once. Or, I should
say, she found me. She wandered into the theater where I worked. Some kind of long-haired breed; small, with dirty
brown fur. She shook hands, spoke and rolled over. She was a small dog and she liked me. She was forever licking
my hands, nuzzling my face and sniffing my crotch. I decided to take her home to meet my dog. I lived in a small apartment, and
my dog was a small mutt. I let him out sometimes, but mostly he just lay in the sun by the window. He was a short-haired
brown thing with a runny nose and a head that seemed a size too big for his body. We got along well. At first. She was high strung--always in
motion. She wanted to run an play. When we went to the park, she chased rabbits and caught Frisbees. She found
at least one interesting stick per visit and brought it back to my dog. At first he tried to keep up, but he was
older; he just wanted to walk Eventually she approached him to
play. He barked, bristled and chased her away. She no longer brought him sticks. He no longer shared his chew toys.
She got bored and bit me. I threw the Frisbee a little too hard. She took my dog's favorite rawhide bone and ran
off with my neighbor's dachshund.
THE END
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